


some bright equation

by Liviapenn



Category: Hellboy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Elves, F/M, Misses Clause Challenge, Multi, OT3, Pining, Polyfidelity, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After almost a year of dating Hellboy, Liz didn't think anything could surprise her any more. She was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Damkianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damkianna/gifts).



Dr. Corrigan was a careful driver, steering the BPRD van slowly around the backwood curves and hills, but Liz still felt vaguely queasy. Like all BPRD vehicles, new or old, this one smelled like sweat, apprehension and ten different kinds of unholy gunk tracked into the floormats. They'd only been on the road for about an hour, but ten minutes out of town all the roads had started looking the same; narrow and dark, flanked on one side by a steep hill and on the other by a dangerous sloping drop. Massive old trees on either side turned the road into a kind of dark tunnel, roofed in black, dripping branches. The dim afternoon light flickered like a dying lightbulb. Liz sighed.

She twisted around, glancing into the back of the van to see how Hellboy and Myers were holding up. Hellboy looked deep in thought, crouched on the floor, his stone hand braced against the barred back doors. Myers looked more than a little white, strapped into his side-facing seat across from a sloshing, rattling shelf of occult supplies and reference materials. Still, he glanced up and smiled at Liz. "Are we there yet?"

"Yeah, Ma, are we there yet?" HB chimed in. 

Liz made a face at the map she was holding. She was pretty sure Dr. Corrigan didn't really need a navigator and had just given her the map to keep her from thinking about how carsick she was. She sighed and folded the map into a messy ball, rustling it at HB. "Here's another fine mess you've gotten us into--!" 

Hellboy grinned, but Myers startled her by picking up the cue. Going goggle-eyed, he twiddled his tie at Liz. "Oh-h-h, Stan!" 

Liz burst out giggling; even Hellboy barked out a sudden laugh."Hey, whaddaya know! A guy who appreciates the _classics_." 

"I used to watch them with my uncle," Myers said. Liz turned back around, settling into her seat and trying to fold the map back into shape. Hellboy could geek out about Laurel & Hardy movies for hours, and Liz had heard this speech before, more than once. Sounded like he'd found a willing conversational partner in Myers, though. Liz shook her head, smiling as Dr. Corrigan pulled up to a stop sign, idling briefly. She glanced over at Liz, raised her eyebrows in exaggerated disbelief and mouthed 'What?'

Liz just widened her eyes and shook her head, but yeah, truth be told? She was surprised too. HB didn't open up to a lot of people. The fact that he considered Myers a worthy audience for his Laurel & Hardy opinions-- yeah, that was a pretty big deal. Myers had gone out on half a dozen big jobs with HB in the year since Moscow, so maybe HB considered him a pal now? But even so, it was startling that he hadn't jumped down Myers' throat for blithely taking over what had always been Liz and HB's private little joke.

"Almost there," Dr. Corrigan called back, turning off the main road onto a bumpy gravel drive. The trees closed in, thicker and nearer on either side, and Liz started trying to fold her map back up. The gravel got thinner and the mud got thicker as they proceeded. Myers groaned and Hellboy grunted irritably as Dr. Corrigan eased up on the gas for a second, then floored it. The final curve was sharp, and Liz braced herself cautiously on the armrest as Dr. Corrigan maneuvered the van around it.

Silence fell suddenly, like darkness in midwinter, and the back of Liz' neck prickled. The drive sloped down into a grassy clearing, and Dr. Corrigan pulled to a stop, parking about halfway down the drive.

"Well, all ashore that's going ashore," she said, and tossed the keys to Liz so she could open the van doors. Liz was glad she'd worn her second-best boots. Just a few steps around to the back of the van and the mud was already sucking at them, sticking in the treads and chilling her toes as she fumbled with the van keys.

Hellboy hopped out, crouching stiffly with his good hand braced on his knee. He stretched, groaning, and looked around. Myers stretched inside the van, edging carefully towards the short hop to the ground; he put his hand on Hellboy's shoulder casually as he jumped down. Liz didn't look over her shoulder at Dr. Corrigan, but she felt another prickle at the back of her neck. She ignored it, looking around at the property they'd come to inspect.

The photos Dr. Corrigan had faxed back to the BPRD facility in New Jersey had done a pretty good job of setting the scene. What surprised Liz was how small the place felt: just a cleared scoop of land at the edge of a cliff, barely half an acre. Even calling it a clearing was being generous, Liz thought. It had probably been well-kept at one point, but now the grass was high and wild, snarls of blackberry vines and small saplings starting to blur the boundaries of the cleared space. 

The van was parked about halfway along the drive, which continued on through the grass, almost reaching the edge of the cliff before turning and looping around the small house on the south side of the clearing. To the north and just ahead of the van was the one large tree on the property, an old black walnut tree, tall and gnarled, its branches heavy, spidering down almost to the ground. 

"The church was built there, originally," Dr. Corrigan said, pointing just beyond the tree. "The foundations were stone. They're still there, under all that grass."

"Shoulda brought a mower," Hellboy muttered.

"Or a few goats," Myers said, straight-faced. Hellboy snorted, too tense to laugh now. Liz was feeling the same thing. Sundown wasn't for hours yet-- Myers probably knew what time it would be to the minute-- but the shadows of the trees to their back gave a weird, eerie tone to the light, as if the sun would plunge beneath the horizon at any moment. 

Liz walked around to the front of the van, peering towards the far boundary of the property. Over the edge of the cliff, she could see the peaked tops of evergreen trees growing far below. Beyond that, still further down was the broad, murky stretch of the river, gray and darker gray, with some inconstant wind whipping it into occasional white peaks.

"So what's the plan?" Hellboy asked. Liz and Myers drifted closer. They'd gotten the rough idea on the drive over, but Dr. Corrigan hadn't really been able to talk in the van.

She sighed. "It's a hell of a story."

"They always are," HB said.

"I'm just saying," Dr. Corrigan said. "I'm going to need coffee."

* * *

Inside, the house was cute, homey, a little old-fashioned. Vaguely untidy, like the family that lived there had just gotten up and left; which, of course, they had. Dr. Corrigan puttered around in the kitchen, getting the coffeemaker started, then came and sat down at the head of dining room table. Hellboy took the other end of the table, and Liz and Myers sat across from each other. 

"The church was built in 1910, burned in 1935. By all accounts, just an accident, no weird rumors or local folklore that I could discover," Dr. Corrigan said. She opened a battered file folder, passing some photocopied news clippings to Myers. "Eventually Jim Moulton came back from World War II, bought the land and built the house."

"Why not use the existing foundations?" Myers asked. Dr. Corrigan looked slightly impressed, tipping her coffee mug in his direction.

"No idea. We don't know much about Jim Moulton. He died young in a car crash and passed the house on to his son Mike. Starting with Mike Moulton, every family that's lived in this house has had a daughter go missing." She pulled out three pictures, each an enlarged photocopy of what looked like a high school yearbook picture, and laid them down on the table, one by one. "Emily Moulton, age fifteen, disappeared in September 1976. Jennifer Burkhart, eighteen, disappeared in October 1991. And Lisa Palmer, age fourteen, went missing a week and a half ago. Like I said, I haven't been able to dig up much about the Moultons, but they did file a missing persons report. Nothing ever came of it. The Burkharts didn't file a report; locals say the family told people Jennifer had run off with a boy. They were pretty strict religious types, so people were inclined to believe it. The other interesting thing is that the Moultons and the Burkharts both sold the house and moved out within a year after their daughter went missing."

"You think they knew their daughters weren't really runaways," Myers said grimly.

"Maybe," Dr. Corrigan said, and passed another few papers to Myers; the top sheet had an official-looking form header followed by several pages of neat cursive script. "That's a report from an upstate psychiatric facility. Long story short, after Lisa Palmer disappeared, her mother Sherry started having repeated nightmares, always replaying the night it happened. The dreams turned into waking visions, and they kept getting more and more vivid, harder for her to deal with. She voluntarily committed herself four days ago. In the dreams she sees her daughter sleepwalk out of the house and over to the site of the burned church. A stone stairway opens up. There's lights down there and a city of white marble. She sees pictures on the walls, garlanded with green vines..." 

"And she recognizes Jennifer Burkhart," Myers said, reading ahead. 

"Yeah. They both went to the local high school," Dr. Corrigan confirmed. 

"The stairway closes up and Lisa is gone." Myers frowned. He'd skimmed the report while Dr. Corrigan was talking; now he flipped back to the beginning and started over, reading carefully, line by line. 

"One of the doctors treating Sherry Palmer just happens to be a local genealogy buff, vaguely related to the Moultons. She'd actually done some digging into Emily Moulton's case, tried matching her up to unidentified Jane Doe bodies, that kind of thing. But when she heard about Jennifer and Lisa, and realized three girls had disappeared from the same house--"

"What'd she think," Hellboy asked, "serial killer?"

"Yeah, actually. She tried selling the FBI on it. They weren't biting, but I know a guy who knows a guy, and when he pulled up the history of the property and noticed the burned church, he sent it my way."

Hellboy nodded. "Did the burned church have a basement or a vault?"

"Not that I know of." Dr Corrigan passed a few old photos of the church across the table. "It was pretty small."

"All right. So what's the plan?" Hellboy went on, but Myers cut off whatever Dr. Corrigan was going to say in reply.

"Is it safe for Liz to be here?" he asked sharply.

"Me?" Liz blinked. 

Dr. Corrigan paused, then answered Hellboy's question. "I want to do as many energy-expelling and dispelling rituals on the ruins as we can get done before dark. Tom Reid's Mirror, a Hexham Guard, maybe Temperance Lloyd's Great Circles, and if we don't stir anything up we'll stay overnight and try again in the morning. Red, I want you to sleep in the ruins."

"Seriously?" Myers protested.

"There's camping equipment in the carport," Dr. Corrigan said. "I checked."

"Good times," HB said. "Why _is_ Liz here?"

"I sort of assumed it was my sparkling personality?" Liz said dryly. Hellboy and Myers both gave her a look-- the _same_ look. Liz huffed a sigh at both of them.

"We're all here for a reason," Dr. Corrigan said. "Let me talk to Liz about why Liz is here. Okay? Okay. Now, how about Tom Reid's Mirror." She pushed her chair back from the table, stood up, and headed for the door.

* * *

To start off with, Hellboy and Myers got a couple of machetes from the van and started hacking away at the tall weeds and wet grass choking the foundations of the burned church. The stones themselves seemed to be in pretty good shape for being almost a hundred years old. Liz hopped up on the flat top of one cornerstone and eyed the pattern of stones as it emerged from the weeds. It looked pretty standard to her, no weird occult angles or hidden pentagrams. Dr. Corrigan patted the top of the stone next to her foot and Liz jumped down. 

"So, if you want, feel free to tell me to go to hell," Dr. Corrigan said under her breath. "But... just between us girls, are you a virgin, Liz?"

Liz opened her mouth, suddenly choking on four different answers all trying to fight their way out of her mouth at the same time. Turning away, she stuck her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, trying to look casual in case Hellboy or Myers looked up. She stared at her boots, letting her hair swing down and hide her face. Oh, hell, she was _definitely_ blushing, and that was probably all the answer Dr. Corrigan needed. 

"Yeah," she said, then wondered if she should have quibbled on the exact definition of 'virgin'. Not that it would change the answer, but just so she didn't sound like a complete loser. She sighed. Dr. Corrigan had known her since she was eleven; her lack of experience probably didn't come as any surprise. "Why, you think that has something to do with it?"

Dr. Corrigan shrugged. "It's always possible."

"So I'm bait, basically."

"Do you have a problem with that?" Dr. Corrigan asked. Liz shrugged back, and Dr. Corrigan patted her shoulder comfortingly. "I'll chalk some symbols on your door tonight, just to be safe. Don't leave your room after dark, all right?" 

"Can I ask _you_ a question?" Liz said. "People say... there's rumors... they say you and Red are close..."

"We're just good friends, kid," Dr. Corrigan drawled. She grinned at Liz. "Shouldn't you be asking _him_ about his checkered history?"

"He gets shy!" Liz said, a smile creeping onto her face despite her embarrassment. Dr. Corrigan laughed, then nudged Liz with her elbow as Myers came closer, almost into earshot. They retreated back towards the walnut tree, old blackened shells crunching beneath their boots. "And besides, I wouldn't be jealous," Liz muttered. "I know he hasn't lived like a monk the last sixty years; I wouldn't _want_ that to be true. He's been lonely enough."

"Yeah, well. Not a monk, exactly," Dr. Corrigan said. "But I wouldn't believe everything you hear, either... Hey, by the way. You should call me Kate."

* * *

By nightfall, the team had accomplished nearly every ritual and blessing on Kate's list. She'd walked backwards around the church nine times, reading from Gowdie's Lost Psalter. Hellboy had taken a set of thirteen small, roughly carved quartz heads and placed them on the standing stones in two rings, each one looking inward at the spot where he'd be sleeping. Myers had chalked arcane blessings in sidereal alphabets around the perimeter of the foundation. 

Liz had maybe been the busiest of them all, slogging back and forth through the weeds to fetch everybody's books and supplies from the van, then stow them back in place. Okay, so maybe she felt a little useless... She sighed, sitting down cautiously on the edge of Lisa Palmer's bed. She'd never studied this kind of thing, she'd tried _not_ to learn about it. She'd never wanted people to depend on her. Certainly not the BPRD. Well. Maybe it was time for that to change.

The laces of her boots were wet and the knots were hard to pick loose with cold, stiff fingers. One came loose with a soft zzzzip and Liz straightened up suddenly, looking over her shoulder. There was nothing moving in the room, though. Nothing but her own reflection in the long mirror mounted on the closet wall. 

She finished taking off her boots, changed into the sweatpants and oversized BPRD tee she'd brought as pajamas, and went out into the living room. Myers had already unfolded the fold-out couch and tucked himself under the covers; he looked sweet and boyish in a soft gray t-shirt, his hair already ruffled up and sticking everywhere. He blinked up at her in the dim light from the hall.

"Hey," Liz whispered, "trade rooms with me?" 

"Um," Myers said, clearly thinking hard, "I like it better out here."

"Come on," Liz insisted. "Kate can chalk the inside of the front door. It'll be fine. I'm not going to climb out the kitchen window in the middle of the night."

Myers sighed. "I'd rather stay here, if that's all right."

"Gee," Liz said, "why don't you just sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed?"

"Kinky," Myers shot back, then went wide-eyed, scrubbing his hand over his face and stammering. "Uh, sorry, I mean-- No, I didn't mean--"

"Wow," Liz said, laughing. "Have you been getting enough sleep lately, Myers? Or have we finally found out how much coffee is too much? Because I kind of like this no-filter version."

"Goodnight, Miss Sherman," Myers mumbled, hiding his face under his extra pillow.

"Wow," Liz said again, and headed back to Lisa's room. The smile on her face lasted until she closed the door.

* * *

She woke, heart pounding, halfway to a panic attack. Reaching out blindly, she shaped her hand around the cold metal curve of the portable fire extinguisher she'd placed on Lisa Palmer's nightstand. What had woken her? Someone had shouted. In a dream? Wisps of her dreams still floated in her head, and for a moment Liz confused them with yesterday's memories: the stone steps, the wet grass brushing and tugging at her jeans, the city in the lands below lit by glowing stones. Kate's hoarse voice as she chanted, the beautiful people who lived below, tall and regal, robed and garlanded. Flutes and drums that played themselves... and then the shout. HB's voice. Had that been real? 

Liz threw the covers back and stuffed her feet clumsily into her boots, not bothering with the laces. A bright silver bell jangled as she pushed the bedroom door open, making Liz jump. Okay, so Dr. Corrigan-- Kate-- had taken more precautions than just chalk. She heard Myers stir sleepily, then sit up. "Liz?"

"I'm not sleepwalking," she said, then cursed as she banged her shin sharply on the edge of the fold-out couch. "I heard something."

"Hang on-- Liz! Wait," Myers said, scrambling for his own boots, but Liz was already out the door. It was a cloudy night, no stars, no shadows. She'd left Hellboy with a lantern and a goodnight kiss, and she couldn't see the lantern. She stumbled across the drive, fighting her way through the wet grass, trembling and shivering, hauling cold air into her lungs in great gulps. She reached the cleared area around the stone foundation. It was dark, empty. The blue tarp Hellboy had set out to camp on was crumpled up in a corner. There was a strange smell in the air, like honey and spices. Liz climbed over the low stone wall, and stopped.

There was a dark smear of blood on the corner of one squat stone, near where Hellboy had settled in to sleep. Like he'd been knocked over, hit his head. No... Liz felt the panic coming, didn't know whether it would come out as a scream or as fire. She stomped one foot against the mud and grass, trying to ground herself in the moment, like Dr. Levine had taught her. _This is my body. I'm here. I'm breathing. I'm cold._ But she wasn't cold. Not inside. Liz hissed as the fire rolled over her, curling down her arms like a warm coat. She opened her mouth and breathed it out. The blood was a brighter red, illuminated by fire, and she could see that there was more, puddled on the ground. The splotch on the ground had a smear halfway through it, like a foot or a hand had been dragged through it. The smear of mud and blood stopped, cut off by a straight line: the whole puddle cleanly bisected, like it had continued on, once, through a door (or down a step) that was gone now. 

Liz moved slowly, the fire roaring in her ears. No, no. This couldn't be. It wasn't fair. They'd both waited so long-- she'd wasted so much time-- She stood with the smear of Hellboy's blood between her boots, her toes touching the line drawn in the mud, the boundary to wherever they'd taken him. "I want him back!" she shouted, hating her own voice, weak and creaky, stuck somewhere in childhood. The fire leaped and she flinched, curling her hands into fists. "Do you hear me? _Give him back!"_

Her eyes blurred with tears. A shape loomed out of the night, white as a ghost in the light from the fire-- it was only Myers. Kate was there too, her parka flapping open to reveal blue silk pajamas. 

"Go back to the house!" Liz snapped. Kate started backing up. Smart lady. She'd seen it before. What the fire could do. 

"Liz!" Myers said. "You can control this. I know you can!"

"Go back to the _house_!" Liz screamed. Not that the house would save them if she really fucking lost it. She was going to go off, she could feel it. She was going to go off like a bomb, like all those times before--

"You can do this!" Myers shouted, planting his bare feet in the grass, ridiculous and shivering. "I know you can! I'm not going anywhere!"

Liz pressed her eyes closed. No, God no, she didn't want to kill Myers, she didn't want to lose it. _I can feel my body. My body is mine. I can feel my heartbeat. My heartbeat is mine._ Her heartbeat... That wasn't helping. Liz wrenched her eyes open and stared at her open hands, at the blue fire she held. She could feel the fire leaping inside her with every thrumming thump inside her chest, feel it pushing into every corner of her body, tingling at the very tips of her fingers. Growing, like a living thing. She'd always pushed it away before. She'd never tried to claim it.

She took a breath. "The fire is mine," she said under her breath. "The fire is a part of me, the fire is mine, I can feel the fire--" It roared within her, making her jump, making her heart kick like a drum. But it didn't leap out at Myers, and it wasn't spreading beyond her feet. The flames were shifting-- _the flames are mine_ \-- from blue to white. Liz curled her hand into a fist and felt the flame cover her skin like armor.

A calm settled over her; not the uncaring blank of disassociation, but a warmth, a feeling of safety. Of power. Liz' fire was more powerful than any sneaking, hiding, cowardly thing that lived in the mud and stole girls in the middle of the night. She knew what to do. She leaned back on her heels, grounding herself. _I am here-- I am safe-- I am powerful._ She spoke.

"I want my boyfriend back," she said, standing at the doorway. The fire roared in her voice and for once she liked the way it sounded. "Open this door and let him out. Do you know what I'll do? I'll blast these stones," she said. "I'll turn them to dust." She breathed in and out, feeling the fire breathe with her. It was hungry, it was alive. She'd kept it locked up, and it didn't like that. "Will that close up your way forever?" she shouted. "Will you have to live in the dirt then, with the worms and the moles? Come up here and speak to me!" 

Be good, Liz told herself. Be good, fire. If this bastard doesn't answer, you'll get to run free. I swear it. 

"I'm fire," she said. "I'm lightning. LISTEN! I can boil this mud, I can fuse it to glass, ten feet deep and more!" She stamped her foot. "You'll be trapped down there like a bug in amber! Unless you come up here and talk!"

Nothing. Only the blood under her feet and Myers' white, worried face at the edge of her vision. His fists were clenched, matching hers, and she could feel his strength backing her up. She exhaled fire, let it burn behind her eyes and glow from every part of her. 

"I'll live here in these ruins forever," she said, "I'll eat grass and drink rainwater. For the rest of my life I'll sleep where he slept, and whatever comes out of the ground, I'll turn to ash," she promised. For the third time she commanded it: "Devil, imp, elf, I don't give a damn what you are. Talk to me or _burn!"_ Flames leaped. The night was silent for one long heartbreaking moment.

The door yawned open at her feet. The trilling, tripping music she'd heard in her dream spilled out, dizzying her for a moment. She stared down into cavern. It was like some trick of perspective-- she could see them coming closer, blurred shapes like dust motes floating in the golden light-- and then they were standing in front of her. 

The first to come into focus was a startlingly handsome young man, skin the same muddy gray as the river, rippled with white streaks like marble. His ink-black hair was pulled back in a long braid tied with white ribbons, and he wore a long, thin white cloak over a finely tailored suit. Liz immediately felt shabby in her worn BPRD tee, slipping off one shoulder, but she pushed that thought aside, her breath catching in her throat-- Hellboy was there, just beyond the elf, his eyes burning with disbelief and hope. Next to him was a girl Liz vaguely recognized as Lisa Palmer. She wore the flannel nightgown she'd disappeared in, her tousled hair topped with a crown of white flowers, and her eyes were glassy and blank. Hellboy and Lisa were flanked by two other elves, both with mottled gray-white complexions, clad in black cloaks and carrying black spears. Elves, Liz realized, real under-the-hill elves! No one in the BPRD had ever seen real elves. Not seen and lived to tell about it, anyway.

"Choose one," the elf commanded.

Liz braced herself, staring defiantly into his eyes. They were strange: a little too large, a little too far apart, and the same shocking yellow as Hellboy's. "No."

He shrugged. "That's my bargain." 

"You heard mine," Liz said. It was strange to be standing so close, having a calm conversation, while the fire whispered and licked at the air between them. _The fire is mine. The fire is not my enemy,_ she told herself, timing the words to her heartbeat. "Give them both back, or you burn."

"My dear," the elf began, and Hellboy jerked into motion suddenly, smashing one of the elf-guards in the face with his stone fist, ducking a spear-strike from the other one and flinging him over his shoulder, back down into the depths of the cavern. The handsome elf spun, angry. "There's no need--!" he began, then saw what Liz had seen-- drawing his hand back to punch the guard, Hellboy had sneakily brushed the crown of white, fluted flowers from Lisa Palmer's head. As it settled softly to the ground at her feet, her calm, emotionless look faded, replaced by confusion and sudden fear. She stared at Liz, hyperventilating a little, and Liz reached out.

"Lisa!" she cried. "Your family misses you! Your mother wants you back!"

"No!" the handsome elf said, but Hellboy gave Lisa a shove, breaking her out of her shocked state. She ran for the stairs, dirty bare feet slapping the stone steps, and burst past Liz into the night, scrambling over the stone wall and stumbling into the dark. Liz braced herself, prepared to physically block the elf, to fucking _fry_ him if he tried to chase after her-- but he only stood still, face and hard and cold as the gray marble it resembled.

"She made her choice; I'm ready to make mine," Liz said, triumphant. She could feel her white rage cooling, the color of the light around her changing. "I want Hellboy," she said, and her fire blazed and snapped, triumphant and gold.

"She was one of us! One of our own," the elf said, cold and sad. He looked old, now, like some ancient carved relic, features worn smooth with uncountable years. Liz kept her eyes on his, watching in her peripheral vision as Hellboy climbed the steps. "Until your witchbreed lover poisoned her mind against us."

"I'll cry another time," Liz promised. She reached out without looking and curled her hand into Hellboy's stone hand, pulling him up and over that last step. Some great weight lifted off her chest. She could breathe again. She felt like she was going to faint. She clung to the fire, letting it hold her up. "Our deal's done. You can go."

The elf nodded and turned away, his shadow falling over the long, worn step. When his shadow moved away, the step was gone, the stairs were gone, the cavern under the earth was gone. The haunting music rang in her ears for one last moment, then faded, and Hellboy had her in his arms, almost startling her with his roughness.

"Liz!" he said desperately, almost dragging her off her feet as he pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. "Jesus, it's you, it's really you," he breathed against her neck. "I knew you'd come for me, I told them--" 

"I've told _you!_ Don't! Wander! Off!" Liz said, half-laughing and half-crying, thumping Hellboy's broad back with the heel of her hand.

"I--" Hellboy stopped and straightened up, suddenly, looking her up and down. Still sheathed in golden fire, Liz shrugged as best she could. 

"That's a new look for you," Hellboy said cautiously.

"Oh, this old thing. Do you really like it?" she said, only half joking. Hellboy just stared at her, still looking weirdly confused, then peered over her shoulder at Myers, who was crouched down in front of Lisa Palmer, pulling Kate's parka closed around her shoulders. He blinked slowly then glanced over at the van, where Kate was rummaging around in the glove compartment; probably trying to figure out where Liz kept the Xanax. "Red?" Liz said, reaching up to cup his face.

"What..." He turned back to look at Liz. "What day is it? It's the same day? Same night?" he corrected himself.

"Yeah, it's the same night," Liz confirmed. "Why? How long did it feel like?"

"Huh?" Hellboy said, then shook himself like a dog, starting by shaking his head and ending with a few strong lashes of his tail. When he refocused on Liz, he was the same old HB as always, grinning that slow grin that never failed to draw a matching smile. "Always feels like forever when you're not around, angel face." He clicked his tongue at her. 

"Oh, Red..." Liz shook her head. She really shouldn't encourage him, but she couldn't stop a few last chuckles from escaping. She was so tired... She leaned into his arms and let the fire go to sleep, easier than it had ever been. It wasn't gone, she realized; it was never gone, it just slept, banked in embers, ready for her when she needed it. It was a weirdly comforting thought, and she let her eyes slip closed. She only vaguely heard Hellboy's muttered "whoops-a-daisy!"as he scooped her up, into his arms. She snuggled closer and went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"And the handsome prince took the princess in his arms and carried her back into the house. He took her shoes off and he tucked her into bed," Liz said. "And... that's what I did on my summer vacation."

Dr. Levine blinked. She didn't say anything for a while. Liz waited, glancing over at the office couch: soft and plump and beige, a true therapist's couch. Liz usually chose a chair instead, if one was available. Dr. Levine's office had a really nice, sturdy wooden chair, set up at an angle to her desk so that Liz could look out into the grimy courtyard instead of at Dr. Levine while she spoke. The couch had never really been her thing, but today it looked tempting; even a week and a half after the events at the burned church, Liz still felt a little wrung out.

Finally Dr. Levine cleared her throat. "You often use metaphors to describe the events of your life," she said carefully, "and I think in a way it's better for our sessions if we don't get bogged down in lengthy explanations and specific details." 

Liz laughed a little. "Yup."

"But..." Dr. Levine said, then stopped herself. 

"I know," Liz said. "It was pretty wild."

Dr. Levine nodded, switching gears. "Was the lost girl returned to her family?"

"Yeah. I actually ended up sleeping for like sixteen hours," Liz shrugged, "so by the time I woke up, the family had been contacted, and they'd already come by to pick her up? But I guess before she left she told everyone to make sure to thank me? It's weird, but I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"You feel like she shouldn't have thanked you?" 

"Not for losing control."

"It doesn't sound like you did lose control," Dr. Levine observed. "No one was hurt, not even... the kidnapper. You didn't damage or destroy anything."

"But I lost my temper," Liz said. "I mean I _completely_ lost it."

"There are times when anger is a reasonable response," Dr. Levine said. "Your anger has the potential to be destructive, but so does mine, or anyone's-- admittedly, not to such a great extent. But even with your limitations, it can be healthy to feel angry, even _very_ angry-- whether you're just venting, or channeling that anger into something productive. Do you want my opinion, Liz?"

"I feel really defensive right now because I know you're going to say something nice," Liz muttered. She stared into the courtyard, where a sad, windblown Japanese maple in a stone planter was slowly strewing its leaves across the uneven, puddled concrete. 

It didn't help; she could still feel Dr. Levine's warm, approving gaze, and slowly she started to smile. 

"Okay," she said. "Go ahead."

* * *

Myers was waiting outside the therapist's office on his scooter, hunched over a thin leather-bound book, still wearing his helmet. Whatever he was reading, he was completely oblivious to Liz' approach. She got close enough to reach out and knock twice on his helmet, startling him. 

"Knock knock," Liz said, grinning, and Myers smiled back, still a little flustered as he closed his book. After almost a year at the BPRD, he was still so easy. It was adorable. "Is something up? I was just going to catch a cab..." 

"Oh, yeah, no, everything's fine," Myers said, looking down. Honestly, he didn't look fine. He looked tired. "I had to come into town to get some stuff from the post office anyway. Red told me to swing by and pick you up after."

"Aww," Liz said. "That's sweet."

"Um, anyway, you look... How was therapy?" Myers asked. "Or is that like asking how somebody's trip to the dentist was?"

He handed her the extra scooter helmet. Liz turned it over in her hands, considering. "Freud once said the purpose of therapy was to transform hysterical misery into common unhappiness."

His hands pausing at the buckle of his own helmet straps, Myers looked askance at her. "I hope your therapist's not a Freudian."

"No," Liz said, "it's just, once upon a time I found that really comforting. To think, hey. Someday, if I try hard, if I do the work-- I might just have regular everyday blues." Myers looked away, and Liz took a moment to study him. He was too skinny, she thought. Had his cheekbones always stuck out like that? "Hey, are you hungry? I'm _starving_."

"I'm beginning to think you literally _burn_ calories," Myers said. "Red said you might be hungry. It's pancake day; I could call in a couple extra orders from the kitchen--"

"No, I'm hungry now," Liz said, looping her arm in Myers' and pulling him half-off his scooter. "Come on, Agent Myers, take me to lunch."

* * *

There was a new banh mi place just a short walk from Dr. Levine's office that Liz had always wanted to try. The morning had been drizzly, but cleared up, and now the sun was reflecting brightly off every puddle, window and wet surface. Liz let herself be dazzled, bumping her arm into Myers' now and then as they walked. 

He kept checking his reflection, Liz noticed: smoothing down his helmet hair, trying to push his bangs into place. It reminded her of nothing so much as Hellboy's habit of running his fingers over the stumps of his horns now and then, as if checking that they hadn't suddenly grown out while he wasn't looking. Funny boys. 

"So are you seeing anyone?" she poked. "Go on any dates lately?"

"Um-- work's been really busy," Myers said, avoiding the question.

"Yeah, I know? We work together?" Liz said. But when he changed the subject, she let him, and Myers chattered on about Alpine dragons and Japanese ghost cats for the rest of lunch. They got some weird looks. Liz just kept smiling.

* * *

Hellboy was working out on his custom bench press when Liz stopped by the vault that evening, the half a dozen vintage issues of _Weird NJ_ he'd ordered from the Internet tucked under her arm. 

"Hey," she said, "I brought your zines." She looked around for somewhere to put them where they wouldn't immediately disappear into Hellboy's ever-growing, overgrown hoard of records, comics and tapes, then gave up and tossed them on the couch, plopping down beside them with a sigh. 

"Hey," Hellboy said, glancing over. He looked pleased to see her, but his tail was twitching, the tip lashing just a little against the floor. Liz knew what that meant; he was self-conscious. Which was odd-- she thought they'd got past that, over the last year. Then again, he was only wearing a pair of tight black shorts and a black sleeveless undershirt, and no shoes either. He'd never liked showing off his cloven feet. "I'm almost done here--"

"Oh, don't hurry on my account," Liz said. "I'm enjoying the view."

Hellboy laughed, pleased, and did a few more slow, theatrical reps. 

Liz picked up one of his zines but didn't open it, ruffling the pages with her thumb. "So," she said, "What's with Myers?"

"Whaddaya mean?" HB paused slightly, grunted and kept lifting.

"Do you think he works too hard?" Liz asked. Most new transfers and recruits went a little nuts right after joining up, but Myers had basically moved into the library and never moved out. "Do you worry about him at all?"

Hellboy paused, holding the bar above his shoulders, and exhaled slowly. "Give me a second, wouldja?"

"Sure," Liz said. She watched as HB finished his set, placing the bar on the rack and sitting up. He rubbed his left hand over his neck, glancing at Liz almost cautiously. She didn't look away, trying to let him see the warmth she was feeling. Almost a year since Myers had joined up meant it had also been about a year since Moscow-- almost a year that Liz and HB had been dating-- if dating was the right word for it. They couldn't exactly go out, and she still hadn't spent the night. Not that she was worried. They'd get there.

She tried to clear any expectation from her face, only smiling as HB came over and kissed her. He cupped her face in his left hand, body tilted to keep the stone hand from knocking into her. He was gentle, always, but if Liz leaned in and brushed his tongue with hers she could make him growl just a little, low in his throat. Her heart still thumped every time he did that; yeah, she was pretty sure they'd get there. 

"Hey, you," she said again, looking into Hellboy's eyes as he pulled back.

"Hey, you," he said, and sat down next to her, tucking his cloven feet shyly under the edge of the couch. "Okay. What's this about Myers?"

"Aren't you worried he works too hard? I thought that's why you sent him out to get me," Liz said. She frowned as HB considered that. He looked like it genuinely hadn't occurred to him, which made the whole thing even more confusing. 

"He's a hard worker and he's got a lot to catch up on," Hellboy finally said with a shrug. "I think you worry too much."

"Well, does he talk to you? When you're out there in the field. Has he said anything about _why_ he's constantly in there studying?"

"I don't know," Hellboy said, bristling a little. "Why are you asking me? Ask Blue, he's the sensitive one--"

"Abe isn't my boyfriend," Liz said, "you are! I'm asking you!" 

Hellboy went wide-eyed. It was honestly cute, how Liz saying 'my boyfriend' could still knock him for a loop. "I-- I know," he said, then cleared his throat. "I know," he said, lower. "I just-- look, what do you want me to do about it? Take him out for beers after work? I can't exactly--"

"No, no, listen," Liz said, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself. Beside her, Hellboy waited, solid and still. That was one of the nicest things about HB: he didn't talk just to fill space the way a lot of people did. Liz let her breath out slowly. "Listen," she said again. "I'm telling you this because it's worrying me and I-- I want to talk about it. I don't expect you to jump in and fix it. I just want you to know I'm worried. I feel worried. This is how I feel." 

Hellboy waited a moment more, then squeezed her hand. "Okay."

"And I want to know if he talks to you," Liz said. "If you guys talk. That's all."

"We don't really talk," Hellboy said, sounding a little guilty. "Look, Liz..." He sounded serious now, and Liz studied him curiously. "I know sometimes I can get a little... jealous."

 _"A little,"_ Liz said loudly, then shut up. "Sorry. Go on."

"I'll talk to Myers. But maybe you should too. Take him out to lunch, go to a movie sometime."

"Wow," Liz said. That was _not_ where she'd expected this conversation to go. "Okay. Well, maybe I will."

"I mean, you're easy to talk to," Hellboy said. "And you're right. I don't think he's got anyone but us."

"I'm actually starting to wonder if you're a pod person?" Liz said. "For real?"

"Ugh, why do I even," Hellboy started, and Liz knelt up on the couch and kissed him on the mouth. He made a surprised noise and pulled her close, tucking her under his arm and kissing her deeply.

"You're a good boyfriend," Liz said, pulling back. "And I love you."

"Right back at ya," Hellboy said, swallowing hard. Liz tucked her legs underneath her and curled into Hellboy's side with a contented sigh.

"Okay," she said, "relationship conversation has concluded successfully. No one was bent, folded, spindled or mutilated in the process. Go, us."

Hellboy laughed, and the vibration deep in his chest made Liz smile. She closed her eyes again, matching her breathing to Hellboy's deep, relaxing breaths. Take Myers to a movie! Would wonders never cease.

Well, maybe she would.

* * *

The next day, after breakfast, she gave in and went to see Abe. Sitting down on the carpeted floor, she leaned back against the wall of his tank. She'd always found this place comforting, even as a child. The sense of strength in the cool, thick glass, the wall of water beween her and Abe. Knowing that even if she lost it in here, she couldn't hurt him. Probably. She wondered darkly if that was still true.

"What's on your mind?" Abe asked, drifting closer, curled like a comma in the water just above her.

"He doesn't seem weird to you lately?"

"Which one?" Abe gestured curiously, one broad arc of his long-fingered hand.

"You pick!" Liz said, spreading her own hands. "Every time I see Myers it's work, work, work, and he just looks so tired and sad, but he won't talk about it. Does he seem sad to you?" She went on, not letting Abe answer. "And honestly, HB has been weird since we rescued that girl. Do you think he's still afraid I'm going to leave? Like, because I'm getting better and better at working with the fire? Because I can only tell him so many times that I love him and I'm not leaving!"

"I could tell you what's consuming Myers, but you wouldn't like it," Abe said. "Leave him alone for a while, Liz. It's something he has to cope with alone."

Liz eyed Abe suspiciously. "Did he _tell_ you what's up with him, or do you just know?"

"I just know," Abe said, "and I didn't have to be empathic." 

"Well, what is it?"

"It's personal," Abe said sweetly.

Liz groaned. "Come on!"

"I said I could tell you, not that I would. Give him space, Liz."

"Red told me to take him out to dinner and a movie!" Liz protested. "I can't do both."

"He said what?" Abe's gills fluttered. 

"I know!" Liz shrugged broadly. "Can you tell me what's up with _him?"_

"Ah, well. That, he should tell you," Abe said.

"Ah, so there is something." Liz pressed both hands to her face. "Why is there always _something_. I've actually been thinking lately about-- moving in with him. I mean, moving my stuff into Red's place. Sleeping over." She peeked through her fingers to see Abe's expression. 

"Hmmm," Abe said, which obviously meant no, bad idea, totally don't, no way. Liz frowned. She hadn't quite realized how much she wanted to do it until just now. "Forgive me, Liz, but this is his first serious relationship-- and yours. Don't rush it."

"We've been dating since last year!"

"And, forgive me, but you haven't been physical yet," Abe said delicately, and Liz sighed. Did literally everyone she worked with know the exact state of her sex life? "One thing at a time, perhaps? A few sleepovers before you decide to actually move in?"

Liz shifted around, both knees touching the rim of the tank, one hand pressed flat to the glass. Abe flinched, but drifted closer, putting his hand against hers. She could feel the cool, familiar touch of his mind, a layer of depthless serenity under the usual chill of the tank. "Sure, Abe. That would be normal. But I don't expect this to be normal. We're not going to check off Cosmo's Fifteen Normal Relationship Steps for Normal People. I've loved him for longer than I want to even admit, and I've waited long enough. Don't you think we've both waited enough?"

"Well..." Abe said, then looked suddenly relieved. Liz scowled. A moment later, Hellboy pushed open the library door. He looked around for Liz, raising his eyebrows when he saw her on her knees, hand pressed to the tank. "What are you two--"

"Girl talk," Liz and Abe said simultaneously. Liz shook her head at him. "That's not as funny as you think it is," she hissed. Abe turned a one-shouldered shrug into a quick escape, skimming off to the private area of his tank.

"Listen, Liz," Hellboy said, coming down the steps, "you don't wanna spend all day inside. I can turn pages for a while. Why don't you and Myers get outta here."

Liz' knees creaked as she pushed herself to her feet. "What?"

"It's a nice day," Hellboy said, and shrugged, way too casually. "Go see that movie." 

Liz was honestly suspicious now, and not just because Abe had confirmed that something was going on. "Okay," she said evenly, "I'll play along. Myers and I are going out for a movie. Don't wait up!"

* * *

She found Myers in the archives, two levels down. "We're going to see a movie, Boy Scout," she said, staring at him.

"We're what?"

"Just shut up and come on." She kept staring until he stood up, pushed his chair in, and followed her.

The nice thing about Myers' scooter was that you couldn't talk much while you were riding it, and the nice thing about a movie was that you couldn't talk much during it. When they got to the movie theater, Liz picked _The Corpse Bride_ \-- mistake. She ended up crying buckets, sobbing so hard she felt morally obligated to move to the back row. Myers sat next to her like a statue, then eventually put his arm over her shoulder, nervous and stiff. Liz cried harder.

As the credits rolled, he produced an an honest-to-god white handkerchief and handed it to her silently. That was one nice thing about Myers, Liz thought, dabbing at her eyes. Hellboy would've been frantic; he hated crying. Myers was the kind of guy who knew how to sit there and soak it up. More than ever, Liz wanted to know what he was breaking his heart over. If he couldn't tell Liz, who could he tell?

* * *

After the movie they went to a diner. The hostess gave Myers a really dirty look as they came in. Liz didn't understand why until they were seated and she saw her own reflection in the metal napkin holder. 

"Oh, lord," she said, picking up her glass of ice water and pressing the broad, cold rim just under her left eye. "Myers, you could have told me I look like La Llorona walking." She switched to her right eye. It helped a little with the hot, itchy feeling of having cried too much, but the dark purple circles under her eyes looked like they were there to stay.

"You look fine," Myers said earnestly, then stared down at his hands, lips parted slightly, like that had been a particularly weird thing to say and he was trying to figure out why he'd said it. Liz reached out and put her hand over his wrist. She felt him shiver, even through his shirt and jacket, and tightened her grip.

"So what's going on with you lately?"

"Nothing!" Myers said. "Nothing at all. Nothing. Nothing. N--"

Who knows how long he would have gone on saying 'nothing' if the waitress hadn't interrupted, but she did. "Hey there, how y'all doing? Do you want to start off with some drinks, or do you need a few minutes?"

"Two coffees," Liz said, "one black, one with cream and sugar. And we're still deciding about food. Thanks!" She looked pointedly at Myers as the waitress bustled off. Myers seemed to have realized that repeating 'nothing' wasn't going to throw her off, and just sat there looking sweet and worried. 

"Can I talk to you about some relationship issues I've been having with HB?" Liz said, changing tactics. "Would that be weird?"

"What? No," Myers said instantly, "you can talk to me. I mean-- why would it be weird? I mean-- Sure." 

"Seriously?" Liz pressed. "It's not weird?"

Myers sighed and looked at her, real weariness in the tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes. "What do you want me to say?" he asked honestly. "I'm Red's friend. I'm-- I'm your friend. Right?"

Well, honesty deserved honesty. "I never really had friends."

"I know you went to a couple of different high schools," Myers admitted, studying his menu circumspectly.

"Seven schools in five years before I gave up and got my GED instead," Liz said. "There were only _incidents_ a few times. Little ones. Mostly little ones. That wasn't usually why I quit. I just didn't fit in. I'm still not quite sure if I was bringing it on myself--"

"No," Myers protested kindly, "come on, no."

"Look-- until about two years ago, I hated myself. I was a _monster_ , and I believed that, down deep. I kept reaching out to people, because some part of me _did_ want friends-- and then anyone who was nice, I'd just lash out at them, because there was this secret part of me that just... hated anyone who tried to treat me like a person. I hated _myself_ for trying to be happy. I didn't deserve it." She shut up as the waitress brought them their coffee.

"Y'all decided on food?" she asked. Liz kind of felt like any day where you cried in public was a day you should officially get to start over, so she ordered a veggie omelet with hash browns and toast. Myers ordered a turkey sandwich, with extra pickles; he always ordered a turkey sandwich with extra pickles.

"You deserve it," he said as the waitress walked away. Liz didn't quite catch it at first.

"What?"

Myers looked up, making and holding eye contact for maybe the first time that night. It was startlingly intense; Liz wasn't sure how to look. "You deserve to be happy, Liz. Everyone does," he said. "And you're a person, not a monster. You deserve to be happy."

"Yeah, well," Liz said, "weirdly enough, two sessions of therapy with good doctors every day for eight months can help you figure some of this shit out. Who knew."

"I sometimes wonder," Myers said, and stopped.

"What?"

"Well, no, never mind-- we're talking about you."

"We can talk about you," Liz said. "Whatever you want." She didn't really know where to start, she realized with a pang. She didn't know half as much as she should have, considering that Myers was basically family now.

Before Moscow, there had been so much to deal with-- her first major relapse in eight months, Professor Bruttenholm's death, whether or not she wanted to let her relationship with HB grow and ripen, or wither on the vine. After Moscow, a lot of questions she might've asked were just irrelevant. Myers was one of the good ones; that was all she needed to know.

Myers was silent for a long while.

"Did something happen?" Liz asked. She looked at Myers. "Something happened."

"When I was eleven," Myers said slowly, not looking up, "my parents went for a drive and they didn't come back."

"Oh, Myers..." Liz reached out, but stopped just short of Myers' hand when he looked up, an uncharacteristically cynical look in his eyes.

"That's not a euphemism," he said pointedly. "They weren't in a car crash. They didn't ditch the kids and start over in Atlantic City. They were just... gone. No one ever found the car. No one ever found them. They didn't come back."

"Oh my god," Liz said. Of course at the BPRD she'd heard stories like this, but not from anyone she liked as much as Myers. Not from someone she didn't already think of as a victim or a lifer. Was there anything to say? He'd probably heard every reaction there was. Probably kept it to himself because he didn't want to _hear_ those predictable reactions. Liz knew what that felt like.

She reached out a third time, but didn't hold his wrist; this time she put her hand over his, and held on. The tips of her fingers brushed the rough arc of scars that reached its thickest point just under the ball of his thumb. He'd scraped the shit out of his wrist back in Moscow, fighting his way out of those iron manacles. The scrape had never quite healed right. 

The scarring was usually covered by the cuff of his shirt, but Liz liked to see it. To her it was handsome, a battle scar. Proof of how hard he'd fight for his friends.

"What I did," Myers said, looking down at her hand, "for about a week, was lie to my brother and sisters. Just... deliberately lie. Mom and Dad are coming back. Mom and Dad wouldn't leave us. The police are going to find them and they'll come back. Everything is going to be okay. And even when that was..." He sighed, a deep and shuddering sigh. "Even when that was _obviously_ a lie, I kept going. They're not going to split us up. We won't have to move, we won't have to go to new schools. We're going to stay together, we won't... Everything's going to be okay."

Liz hated herself for thinking it, but all of a sudden the Professor picking out Myers to be HB's handler made a lot more sense. He was walking wounded, like so many of them at the BPRD. He'd never have an answer, so he'd never be able to get over it, not really. 

No, Myers was permanent. Like the Professor had been, like Kate Corrigan and Andrew Devon and a handful of others scattered around the country. Myers wasn't going to do a shift in the BPRD and then transfer away to get married or have kids or teach English folklore like a normal person. He was going to be a lifer, like HB and Abe and Liz and the rest of the freaks. 

Liz sighed and opened her mouth, not knowing what she was going to say, but knowing she had to say something. Of course that was when their food arrived. The waitress seemed to sense some kind of dark mood at the table, because she just would _not_ go away, chattering brightly on and on for what seemed like a year.

"Can I get you anything else?" she finally finished. "Hot sauce? Mustard? More coffee? Anything else?"

"More coffee," Liz and Myers said simultaneously, and Myers actually laughed.

"I always hate it when I feel sorry for someone," Liz said, as wryly as possible, trying to make Myers look up-- trying to make Myers smile. "Because it doesn't happen that often? And it feels weird? Because _my_ personal trauma is the all-time worst and everyone else is just a distant runner-up? And--"

Myers picked up his turkey sandwich, practically hiding behind it. "No, no. Don't feel sorry for me."

"Are you trying to find them? Is that it?" Liz said, cocking her head. She didn't think that was it, but--

"No," Myers said flatly. "There's nothing to work on. After all this time? No one was ever even sure where they disappeared _from_. I'm not delusional enough to think--" He pressed his lips together, then looked at her, his eyes bright. "I can't do what you did."

"What?" Liz said, and then his meaning struck her, and her cheeks started to burn as she blushed. 

"What you did at the church, rescuing Red and the girl-- it was amazing," Myers said. "It's everything I wanted to do, my whole life. Just shout into the void, _give them back_ , and be strong enough, love them enough, that someone, somewhere would have to listen. Seeing you do it-- it was almost like a sign." 

Liz didn't know what to say, but luckily Myers wasn't done. 

"Don't worry about me, Liz. I've been down lately, I know, but I don't mean to worry you. I'll get over it. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be." He sighed. "And Red's a lucky guy." He inhaled sharply, like he hadn't meant to say that part. Liz wasn't sure why. 

"I'm a lucky girl," she said. "And I'm glad to have you as a friend."

Myers nodded, wordlessly.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thanks for meeting me," Liz said guiltily. She hadn't called Dr. Levine in for an emergency session in a while.

"Of course. It's not a problem," Dr. Levine said, leaning forward in her chair. 

"Honestly, I don't feel like I'm going to have a meltdown," Liz said, wringing her hands, "I just feel like-- I feel like there's some big thing, some big emotion I'm not letting myself feel and I don't like that. It's dangerous. It _feels_ dangerous. I don't like that I ran out on Red. I never liked doing it, and now..." She stopped wringing her hands and sat up, consciously working to feel aware of her body. Her spine against the straight back of the hard wooden chair, her feet inside her boots, her heels against the floor. A hard pressure behind her eyes. No tears yet.

"How do you feel right now, Liz? Physically."

"Queasy. _Wobbly_ ," Liz said, and the tears were in her voice now. "Like we were playing tug of war and he just let go."

"You argued," Dr. Levine said.

"It was... I don't know. It didn't start out as an argument. We were just lying around cuddling, watching TV, and he asked me when I'd start looking for a new place! For my own apartment! Like it was no big deal!" Liz hated how frantic her own voice sounded.

"You've been staying at the facility for almost a year now," Dr. Levine said. "In the past you've said you felt trapped there..."

"That was before." Liz closed her eyes, trying to ground herself in memories. The chill of the concrete hallways, the heavy thunk and grind of the elevators. As a child she'd hated that sound; grim and rhythmic, like shovels slowly digging a grave. Only recently it had become a sound that made her heart leap: he's here. I'm close, I'm coming nearer. He's waiting for me. "I think it took leaving for so long for me to realize I missed it. My friends are there. The people who know me. And Red is there." She breathed, feeling steadier, letting her feelings move through her with her breath. "I felt trapped because I didn't think I'd ever have control, and if I didn't have control, then I didn't have a choice. But I _do_ have a choice now." 

Dr. Levine nodded understandingly. "What exactly did Red say?"

"He said--" The wobble was back. Liz put one hand on her wrist. _This is my wrist. This is part of my body. This is mine._ Dr. Levine waited, patiently. Something about her, suddenly, reminded Liz very strongly of Hellboy: an unassuming kindness masking a steely, uncompromising strength. She let one corner of her mouth quirk up, then put that thought aside. Maybe she'd tell Dr. Levine about it later. 

She tried to put herself back in that moment, safe as a child under Hellboy's arm. She put both hands up to her throat, the heels of her hands meeting under her chin, fingertips stroking her nape. _This is my throat. This is my breath and my pulse. They are mine. They belong to me._ Her eyes popped open in surprise. "Oh!"

"Yes?"

Liz lowered her hands. "I think... Did I remember it wrong? He didn't say I _should_ get my own place," she said, blinking. "He just asked. He asked if I'd thought about it." She let out a shuddering breath. "And I freaked out. I thought... It felt like every other time. Every other time I got expelled or discharged or referred somewhere else..."

"Do you think it's possible he was suggesting that the two of you get a place together?"

"Ha--! No. He can't leave. Literally," Liz said firmly as Dr. Levine opened her mouth. "Really. That's not it."

"You've mentioned his visits before," Dr. Levine pushed slightly. "If he could visit you when you were inpatient at the hospital, why can't he--"

"He's not supposed to," Liz admitted. "He sneaks out. They don't like it." She took a deep breath. "I have some anger about that. He's such a sweet guy. I can't even tell you. They treat him like-- The thing is, we're the same, him and me," she said, leaning forward suddenly. "We're both freaks. But I'm a cute young girl, so they try to push me out. If I can be normal, I can be their success story. Liz, go have a normal life. Meet a normal guy. Live in the suburbs. Join the PTA. I don't think I realized how much they all wanted that until just recently." She shook her head. "And he's _him_ , and they treat him like-- like an A-bomb, or a monster, like he ought to live under a bridge--" She stopped, pressing her lips together tightly. 

"He looks different," Dr. Levine said slowly, as though confirming something she'd suspected for a while. "Physically different... I'm sorry," she said, in reaction to Liz' sudden pained look. "I know it's a priority for you to respect his privacy."

"I know it makes it hard to treat me," Liz muttered. "All the things I can't talk about."

"Your relationships are important, but our main focus here is you, not your boyfriend," Dr. Levine said. "Let's talk a little more about expectations. You feel that your-- co-workers?-- at the facility have expectations of you that you don't share."

"Not my co-workers," Liz said hesitantly. Most of her past sessions with Dr. Levine had been about giving Liz tools to deal with stress in the moment, and occasionally working in incremental steps towards some distant potential future where Liz left the BPRD behind, maybe applied to college. Last winter she'd realigned her priorities, but she'd avoided talking about that too much. 

Until now. 

"Look, there's-- there's two kinds of people at the facility. There's lifers, like Red is, like the Professor was. It's their life. There's no getting around it. But most of the people there are... well, like you. Like, I'm just a job to you," Liz said. She reached out with both hands, palms up, to soften her words. "We have a doctor and patient relationship, we're not _family_. But that doesn't mean I can't trust you, or that you don't care about me. We just have boundaries. And that's fine," she said as Dr. Levine nodded. "But it's those people-- the day shift, Red calls them-- they're the ones at the facility who have kind of withdrawn from me. Because I'm with Red now. And he makes me happy. I'm not constantly moping around like a prisoner."

"Let's double check something," Dr. Levine said. "Do you really feel like _everyone_ at the facility-- everyone you'd classify this way, as the 'day shift'-- has withdrawn from you?"

"Well... no," Liz muttered, staring at her boots. "There's some. I think Dr. Corrigan asks them to look in on me sometimes, because she spends most of her time in Europe. I think she mostly likes me because I make Red happy, anyway. I guess maybe there's a few others." Liz sighed. "Okay, so not everyone. I mean, Myers-- but Myers doesn't count." 

Dr. Levine paused for a moment, and Liz felt a tension low in her spine, like she was afraid she'd let something slip. It had been a while since she'd felt that way around Dr. Levine. She really _did_ trust her, so... why did she feel apprehensive, suddenly?

"Let's talk about your own expectations for yourself," Dr. Levine said. "Your own goals for this next year." Liz breathed out, like she'd just escaped something, but she didn't know what. "If you don't want to move out, what do you want?"

"Well, I'd _kind_ of like to not hit my next birthday and be a twenty-six-year-old virgin," Liz said honestly.

Dr. Levine struggled, Liz could tell, but when she spoke, there was only seriousness in her voice, no mirth. "We can definitely discuss that. What else?" 

* * *

Red met her at the base of the elevator when she came back. Poor baby, he looked terrified. Liz walked into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He exhaled, a deep creaking sigh like a house settling at night. "I didn't mean to do... whatever I did," he said. "Scare you, or-- push you. I dunno. Sorry."

Liz nodded against his chest. "Me too."

"The doc helped?"

"Sometimes I just need someone to talk to who isn't you," Liz said, taking his hand and leading him down the hall, back towards his vault. "Or Abe. Or Kate. Or Myers," she said, countering any objection before he could make it.

"I wasn't gonna argue. I'm glad you talk to her," Hellboy said. He let it lie for almost twenty seconds. "--What do you tell her about me?"

"I tell her lots of things. I told her you're the best boyfriend in the world and you drive me crazy," Liz said. "And that I badger you to talk more, and then when you actually try to talk, I freak out and run away. Not super proud of that."

"Eh, I love you anyway," HB said lightly. He'd said it before-- he said it all the time-- but not like that. Not those three specific words. Liz felt a little gut-punched.

"Do you?" she said, leaning into him and bumping his arm with her shoulder.

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

* * *

Everything probably would have been _fine_ after that, just absolutely fine, if it hadn't been for Lisa Palmer's official debrief. Things were basically back to normal-- or what Liz was thinking of as the new normal, after Moscow and after the burned church. She felt better than she had in a long time, confident and stable, and she was even talking with Dr. Levine about cutting her therapy sessions down to twice a month. Hellboy was still kind of distancing at the weirdest moments, but Liz had reluctantly taken Abe's advice about not making any huge relationship decisions too quickly, and he seemed to be warming up again. Slowly.

On the other hand, Myers still seemed blue, and weirdly intense about his studies. Nobody volunteered for the monthly flush and scrub of Abe's tank unless they were throwing themselves into their work in order to stop thinking about _something_. And Red kept finding excuses to get him out of the BPRD, which would have been _typical_ , except he kept sending Liz along too. To a flea market to add to his vinyl collection, to make sure the comics store hadn't messed up his order, sending them both out to fetch take-out, or asking Myers to pick Liz up from therapy... It was honestly weird. 

Liz was pretty sure Myers thought it was weird too. And she wasn't sure all this one-on-one time was helping. Sure, sometimes Myers brightened up after one of their long talks over dinner, but sometimes he looked mopier than ever. Maybe she should've taken Abe's advice about that too. She'd been avoiding him for a while. Maybe she should stop in--

"Oh, Liz!" called Dr. Corrigan-- Kate-- waving at her from the far end of one of the BPRD's tunnel-like hallways. Liz could see someone standing behind her, a visitor's badge pinned at her waist. She had brown hair and was dressed similarly to Kate, in a simple gray button-up shirt over a long skirt, but Liz didn't recognize her. She didn't really like meeting guests, but she pasted on a smile and headed over. 

"Hi, Kate."

"Liz, you remember Lisa Palmer," Kate said as she approached, and Liz' jaw dropped. 

"Oh-- yeah! Hi!"

"Yeah, I know, I look different out of my pajamas," Lisa joked, smiling and stepping forward to enfold Liz in an unexpected, unavoidable hug. "Oh, it's so good to meet you, Liz! I've heard all about you."

"Well," Kate said, "I'll just let you two talk for a while. Liz, just send Lisa up to briefing room four when you're done, okay?"

NO, Liz mouthed emphatically, but Kate had already turned away. She scowled mightily, then pasted on a smile as Lisa released her from the hug.

"Hi," Lisa said. "Hi again."

"Hi," Liz said. "Did you... want to get a coffee?" She really needed a coffee. Wait, was Lisa even old enough to drink coffee? There was something about her that made it hard to judge her age; something around her eyes.

"I'm good," Lisa said, growing serious. She brushed her hair back behind her ear, leaning closer to Liz. "I just wanted to talk to you about, um, some of the things that happened."

"Yeah, I'm definitely going to need coffee," Liz said, wheeling around. She headed for the break room at the end of the hall. It was late in the day, so it was empty and hopefully would stay that way. A few last dregs of coffee were left in the pot; Liz poured it out into the sink and started making a fresh batch. 

"So did you always want to be a hostage negotiator?" Lisa said, settling down at the break room table.

"Uh, I'm not sure what I did could really be called negotiating," Liz said, scooping coffee into the filter.

"Well, hey, it worked," Lisa shrugged. "And I gotta say, Hellboy talked you up a lot-- my girlfriend this, my girlfriend that-- but you definitely lived up to the hype."

"How much could he have talked me up? He was barely gone for an hour," Liz said, flattered.

"Um." Lisa suddenly looked like an awkward teenager for the first time. "What?"

"What?" 

"He didn't tell you? I mean, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Plenty of _them_ were after him, but he just kept telling them, 'Liz is gonna be mad enough that I wandered off without--' He didn't tell you any of this?"

Liz felt unsteady. She sat down and stared at Lisa. "What exactly are you saying?"

"Time runs differently down there?" Lisa said. "I've just been telling Kate about it. I knew a lot more about the Clan under the Church than she thought I would," she said, and laughed. "Like, I was only gone for a week and a half, up here-- but I didn't know that at the time. I thought it was nine years."

"Nine years!" Liz barely recognized her own voice.

"I mean, I slept for a lot of it," Lisa said, "and then after Hellboy arrived they kept putting that circlet on me so I wouldn't try to help him escape. So most of that last year is a blur. It wasn't so bad."

 _"That last year?_ Red was down there for a _year?"_

"Um," Lisa said, "yeah?" 

"Excuse me," Liz said, and stood up. "I have a boyfriend to scream at." She loosed the fire, let it roll over her, blurring her figure until she hoped Lisa couldn't see the tears of anger in her eyes. She stalked out of the break room and down the hall towards Hellboy's vault, agents and scholars scooting out of her way. She turned a sharp corner and almost tripped over Manning. 

Wonderful! Exactly what she _didn't_ need right now, a lecture on fire safety regulations. Oh, god, and he was leading a tour group. Well, what _Manning_ called an "on-site oversight governmental compliance inspection group" and what Liz called "the tour to see the freaks." As Liz came into view there were gasps, a few muttered curses, and one pant-suited Southern belle with big hair literally clutched her pearls. And of course they all froze in place instead of just goddamn _moving_ to let her _through_. Goddamn _tourists_.

"Manning," Liz said, nodding tightly. "Do you mind? Can I get by?" she said, edging closer to his group just to see them shrink back. "Some of us are actually trying to work around here."

"Of course," Manning said, giving her the look that meant _we'll talk about this later_. Like he didn't even notice she was _on fire_. Liz would've laughed if she hadn't been so angry. "Everyone, if we could just, if everyone could let Agent Sherman by--"

She ignored the staring, ignored the way they shrank back. But just as she got past, into the open, she heard one of them in the front mutter to Manning, something about-- "it's under control?" 

"What was that?" she said, spinning around. The flames got thicker, but they stayed yellow and red. Unlike the blue fire, which made her feel blank and dead, the red flames were more strongly rooted in her emotions, grounding her. She was almost painfully physically present. She rounded on the man who'd spoken. He looked about Myers' age, but otherwise utterly different, a beady-eyed paper-pusher in a cheap suit, his sneer slipping off his face as Liz cornered him. "What'd you say? Something about me being under control?"

"Agent Sherman!" Manning said loudly. Liz ignored him.

"Is my temper always under control?" She thought about it, putting one finger to her chin. "As it turns out, not really! But you know what I always say? _Close enough for government work!"_

She laughed, and Manning came in a beat late, chuckling more heartily than the joke deserved. "Yes, very good, Agent Sherman, that'll be all."

Liz breathed in and out. She wasn't really mad at Manning. She had bigger fish to fry.

Maybe literally.

* * *

She burst into the vault, still burning hot. Hellboy's cats scattered; Hellboy was sitting at his kitchen table with Myers. Trying to teach him some kind of card game, from the looks of it. 

"Liz!" Hellboy said, pleased. Liz walked over and took the cards out of his hand, crisping them to ash. "Hey, I was winning!"

"How dare you?" she said, the howl of the fire deepening her voice. "A year? A YEAR? You were gone down there, under the hill, for a year, and you didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't a whole year," HB weaseled, and Myers gaped.

"And YOU!" Liz shouted at Myers, "did you know about this?"

"Definitely not," Myers said quickly.

The fire roared higher. "How could you NOT know about this?! You're supposed to be his HANDLER! You're supposed to look out for him--"

"All right, come on now, you're not mad at Myers," HB said, and Liz whirled on him again, slamming both her hands down on the vinyl surface of the table. It started to bubble, and Myers pushed his chair back to avoid the smoke and spatter.

"Don't tell me who I'm angry at!" she shouted. "He should have been with you! You shouldn't have been alone!" 

The flames were starting to sputter as sadness washed across her. Alone, trapped, imprisoned-- Liz could barely stand the thought. Hellboy stood up and took her in his arms, fire and all. "I've waited longer. It wasn't all bad. There was some good hunting."

"Please don't," Liz said. She couldn't bear it if he tried to tough it out. 

"And I knew you'd come around," Hellboy said. "I knew that." 

Liz leaned into him, the tension and fire bleeding away, leaving her weary and sad and just human. Just Liz.

"I should go," Myers said under his breath, pushing his chair back, and Liz' temper flared again. 

This time she kept the fire on the inside. "No," she said, rounding on Myers, poking her finger into his tie, "no, I'm definitely still mad at you. What is _wrong_ with you? How could you not notice something was wrong? Of course he wasn't going to tell me, but he might have told you if you'd _noticed!"_

"You know better 'n anyone he's had a lot on his mind," Hellboy said. Liz flamed up, blazing hot and red and yellow, throwing sparks as she spun on her heel. 

"Stop-- defending-- him! Let him tell me!"

"No, I should go," Myers said again, his face flushed, his eyes weirdly bright. "This isn't, it's not working." He avoided Liz' gaze, heading for the keypad next to the vault's door. 

"You wanna know what's wrong with Myers?" Hellboy said. "I'll tell you: he's in love with you," His voice was soft, but they all heard it. Myers froze. He didn't turn around. "You think I don't know what that looks like? I told Abe, I think maybe I ruined you for normal guys, babe," he said, and Liz shook her head, disbelieving. HB raised his voice, clearly pitching it towards Myers. "Yeah, I chased after Liz like a _dog_ , buddy. Did you think she knew? That she was just feeling sorry for you? She didn't know-- Oh, Liz."

Liz stared at Hellboy, then raised her hand to touch her own face. She was crying. "Oh."

 _That_ got Myers to move. He moved towards Liz, stumbling like he was being shoved, and held out his handkerchief, still avoiding her eyes. Liz took it, pressing it against her eyes with the heels of both hands. Myers, oh, Myers. She realized two things at once-- that she loved him too, and that Hellboy knew. Had known, she guessed, for a while.

"What are you doing, Red?" she said, lowering the handkerchief. "What are we going to do?"

Hellboy took Liz' hand and led her over to the couch. She sat down, not numb now but something else. Overwhelmed. "Liz," he said, crouching down in front of her, "we're gonna be okay. Just, hang on a second. It'll be okay. Don't cry."

HB looked over his shoulder at Myers, then stood up. Myers flinched but stood his ground, mouth tight like a suffering saint. 

"There's somethin' else I know the look of," Hellboy said, and Liz' eyes widened and her breath caught as Hellboy spread his stone hand against Myers' back, his left hand cupping Myers' cheek gently, and bent him back into a low, thorough kiss. When he straightened up again, he shot Liz a devilish grin, a challenging grin. Liz stood up, her heart pounding with a painful, enjoyable intensity. She knew what he wanted-- what he was asking-- as clearly as if he'd spoken the words in her mind. 

She stepped up to Myers, put her cool hands on his warm, flushed face and drew him down into a kiss. He was breathing fast, shaking, and he turned his face away at the last second, so that she only caught the corner of his mouth. "Myers," Liz whispered, the warm strength of Hellboy's body at her back, his left hand on her shoulder. "John."

He stared wild-eyed into her reassuring gaze. "Liz..."

"We're not going to let you leave," Liz said. "When HB finds people he likes, he keeps them."

"Even-- like this?" His eyes skipped guiltily up to Hellboy's.

"When I was down there under the hill," Hellboy began, "I didn't know how much time was passing, up there in the world." Liz tried to turn around, but Hellboy put his stone hand on her belly and kept her facing away, resting his chin against her temple. "Just-- let me get through this," he said, and she nodded. "I figured-- seven years? Nine years? Ninety-nine's traditional. I didn't expect you to wait forever. I figured you'd move on, and it would be Myers, and why not? He'd be good for you. I thought of you together, the life you could have--"

"Without you?" Liz challenged. Myers looked too shocked to speak.

"I liked thinking about you two together," Hellboy confessed, his voice softer than ever. "Thinking about you two-- not being lonely. You shouldn't be lonely, kid," he said, and reached out to brush his thumb against Myers' jawline. "You love her and you want me; I think we can work something out. What do you think, Liz?"

Liz took a deep breath.

"This is going to be a hell of a 'how I lost my virginity' story," she realized out loud. Myers startled, blinking. "Oh, you didn't know. Great! That's great. Well, now everybody knows."

Hellboy laughed against her back, the low rumble almost ticklish. "I think we can make it a good story," he said. "Myers? You in?"

"Uh," Myers said, shell-shocked, and Liz took the opportunity to go up on her toes and kiss him on the mouth. He fell into it with desperate sweetness, a hunger like Red's but different, and Liz could feel herself responding, could feel Red behind her _feeling_ her respond-- it felt like her powers, like fire feeding fire, hungry and satiated all at once-- and she could tell Myers felt it too. When she broke the kiss he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek and her eyebrow, and then, tenderly, one hand under her chin, John Myers kissed the dark circle under her left eye. 

"I'm in if you're in," he said roughly.

"I'm in," Liz said. "Of course I am."

"I'm gonna remind you two _forever_ that this was my idea," Hellboy said happily.

"Ugh," Liz realized, making a face, and both her boys stiffened. "No, no, this _is_ great, but how am I gonna explain it to Dr. Levine?"

* * *

She thought about it, but she didn't actually tell Dr. Levine at the next session. Maybe she'd build up to it. It _was_ a bit embarrassing to realize she'd been dating Myers for weeks without knowing it.

She did think it was time for something else, though. She waited until almost the end of the session, so that just in case Dr. Levine wanted to skip it, she had an excuse.

Ten minutes left. No more procrastinating. She sat for a second, taking deep breaths and feeling her body, feeling her emotions. _This is my body. It belongs to me. It is mine. This is my heartbeat. It's inside me. It is part of me. It is mine._ "Can I show you something?" she said, and Dr. Levine cocked her head curiously. "Could we go out in the courtyard?"

Dr. Levine's eyes went very wide, and she tucked one wing of grey-blonde hair behind her ear nervously. She hadn't done _that_ in a while. "All right," she said, and Liz smiled. 

The courtyard was small, enclosed on all sides by the office complex that included Dr. Levine's practice. It was mostly concrete and brick, with two stone benches each flanked by a receptacle for trash and cigarette butts, and that same unhappy-looking Japanese maple in a square stone planter. Liz gestured with one hand, and Dr. Levine sat cautiously on the far stone bench. Liz stood behind the other. She took a deep breath. The sun on her head, the stink of cigarettes, the stillness of the warm summer air, and Dr. Levine's calm patience all surrounded her.

"The fire belongs to me," she said. "It is not the enemy. It is mine." Her voice went low as she spoke, from someplace deep in her chest where it all lived-- the fear and the guilt and the shame, the love and the joy and the belonging. All of it. 

She exhaled and the fire poured out, prickling from her skin like sweat, and it wasn't the enemy, it was easy. Easy to hold close, in her open hands. The maple was fine. Dr. Levine was fine. Wide-eyed, very still, lips white around the edges, but not screaming, not running. 

"How--" She stopped and cleared her throat. "How do you feel right now?"

"I feel good," Liz said. "It feels like having a good cry. Or screaming into a pillow. Or-- I don't know," she said, unable to think of a metaphor that wasn't about negative emotions. She looked down at her hands, wreathed in flame. "You know, it's weird, it wasn't always like this."

"How so?"

Liz wriggled her fingers, letting the red-yellow, red-gold waves play over her hands. "It used to be-- sharper. Blue. It made me feel numb. Now I like it. It makes me feel alive."

Dr. Levine nodded, slowly. "Why do you think it's changed?"

"It feels like me now," Liz said thoughtfully. "Not like something that happens _to_ me, or comes from outside of me." She laughed suddenly. This was normal. She was having a normal conversation with her therapist, and she was _on fire_. "It's a part of me. It's mine. Oh!" she said. "I know what it's like now."

"Yes?"

"It's like a roller coaster," Liz said. "It's scary but-- I like it. And I know it's going to be all right in the end."

* * *

When she came out of therapy, Myers was waiting, squinting happily into the pale December sun. "Hey," he said, producing a pink and white bag from behind his back, "I got donuts. Should we head home before they get cold?"

"Yeah," Liz said, "let's." She buckled her helmet on and climbed into the seat behind Myers, curling her arms tightly around his waist. "And if they get cold," she said, "I'll just warm them up again."

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> Set between the first & second movies. Some comics canon adapted in spots; not much. The story Myers tells about his parents is actually canon from the first movie's DVD extras, and I thought it made a lot of sense for his character, so I included it here.


End file.
